You barely noticed he’d gone quiet after snapping at you during training. Itona wasn't mean — just overwhelmed. But guilt chewed at him.

The next morning, a perfectly peeled clementine sat on your desk. You turned to him. "It’s yours," he muttered. "For… yesterday." You smiled. "You could’ve just said sorry." He shifted. "I’m better at peeling fruit." He looked relieved in that tiny, quiet way of his — shoulders dropping, lips softening.